


Butterfly Effect

by AstridEstelle



Series: Flapping Wings [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abusive Lucius Malfoy, BAMF Narcissa Black Malfoy, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:53:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28375734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AstridEstelle/pseuds/AstridEstelle
Summary: Somewhere out there a butterfly flapped its wings and one Draco Malfoy ended up with Tom Riddle's diary. It changed everything.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy & Lucius Malfoy, Draco Malfoy & Narcissa Black Malfoy
Series: Flapping Wings [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2078202
Comments: 17
Kudos: 90





	Butterfly Effect

**Author's Note:**

> Lucius is a douche in this. He sees his wife and child as property that he owns, its his form of love. 
> 
> Unknown if this will be slash or not.

Draco couldn’t help but find it ironic, his father had been lecturing him about being beaten by a mudblood and the proper way to represent the Malfoy family and here he was brawling in a store with Weasley like a muggle, the bloody hypocrite. Still Draco supposed it was his duty to remind his father of the proper way to behave.

He moved to get in between the two men, only to find himself flung into the youngest Weasley, the girl, clutching a bloody nose. One of them had accidentally elbowed him in the face.

“Draco!” His father sneered, “If you’re going to interfere in fights that aren’t yours, at least make sure you’re man enough to do so.”

He left the bookstore with a flourish of his robes, while a red-faced Draco stood behind shaking slightly. Draco sighed, dropping to the floor and picking up the Weasley’s books, handing them to her. His mother’s teachings were engrained in him since birth, as much as he tried to act like his father, as he was always reminded, he would never be the man his father wanted him to be.

“Here.”

“That’s not mine.” Girl Weasley said pointing at one of the books.

Draco sighed again, removing the black book and shoving the rest in her hands, it was probably his own. She was looking at him in a weird way and he really didn’t like it. “Sorry.”

“Draco!”

He jumped hearing his father’s voice, shoving the book in his robe pocket, and making for the exit, flinching when the mother Weasley grabbed his shoulder.

“Oh dear at least let me heal that.”

Draco shook his head and flushed, “No thank you. My father wouldn’t be pleased. It’s a punishment for interfering when I shouldn’t have.”

The mother Weasley gaped at him, and Draco jumped at his father’s voice, and hurried out the bookshop. One did not keep a man like his father waiting.

* * *

Narcissa said nothing when Draco showed back up at the manor with a broken and bruised nose. All she did was heal him give him a kiss and send him on his way.

In her head she marked another number, Lucius only had one more chance.

Narcissa had always been a dutiful daughter and a faithful wife. She hadn’t wanted to marry Lucius but had done so out familial duty. It was a nice marriage until Lucius started getting caught up in all that pureblood mania.

She herself may have believed that purebloods were superior, but she was smart enough to keep it to herself and recognize that some halfbloods and mudblood could be useful.

Coming into this marriage, unknown to Lucius she had given him three strikes. Once all three of those chances were gone, well it wouldn’t be pretty. He’d lost one chance by teaming up with the Dark Lord and getting caught. It had taken her years to restore the Malfoy name to its former glory and it still wasn’t where it used to be.

His treatment of their son left a lot to be desired and the incident today had been the second strike. While her marriage to Lucius may have been loveless, she loved her child with all her heart and would not see him harmed.

Lucius had one strike left and Narcissa needed to get things ready, for when he would inevitably cross the line, as most powerful men tended to do.

* * *

In all honesty Draco had completely forgotten about the little black book. Which wasn’t surprising, his father had punished him for attempting to interfere and failing, nothing permanent or visible he was the only heir, not to mention mother couldn’t be permitted to find out.

So, Draco had done his best to put it out of his mind. His father had taken back his offer to get Draco on the Quidditch team, not that he cared anymore or at least not right now. After having his nose broken and seeing the various Quidditch injuries payers usually acquired, he’d decided that he wasn’t looking forward to that kind of pain.

It wasn’t until after Lockhart’s disastrous class that Draco remembered the book. Those stupid pixies had gotten into his bag and ripped up all of his parchment and until his mother sent him new ones, he didn’t have anything to write down his notes on.

It was looking for extra parchment that Draco had found the black book tucked in a pair of robes, robes he’d shoved way down to the bottom of his trunk and forgotten about.

He’d flip the book open and found nothing but empty pages and grinned. Writing down his notes for DADA, just because Lockhart was an incompetent teacher didn’t mean he’d let himself get a substandard education.

Maybe his father had been right Durmstrang would’ve been better. Nevertheless he opened his notebook writing down the proper way to deal with pixies.

_Leave out little trinkets as offerings and they’ll settle down_.

_Interesting_

Draco blinked staring at the journal in shock, eyes widening, he was no fool, his parents for all their facades were dark wizards and everyone knew that if you found a book that wrote back the best course of action was to inform some authority figure, and yet Draco couldn’t help but want to write back, a little voice telling him that no one could be trusted.

_What kind of book is this?_

_I’m not a book. I’m a diary._

_Who’s diary?_

_Tom Riddle_

_I don’t know who that is_

Draco frowned a mudblood then or a halfblood, he knew all the ancestral pureblood surnames and Riddle wasn’t among them.

_I’m a student at Hogwarts_

_I’m at Hogwarts right now. I don’t know any Tom Riddles_

_What year is it_

_1992_

_Well last I checked it was 1942_

* * *

Draco can’t help but be a little giddy when he finally closes the diary and shoves it under his pillow. Tom agreed to be his friend, a friend that he chose, after Potter had turned his friendship down, he’d vowed to never put his hand out like that again.

Riddle may not have been a pureblood, but to be part of a diary fifty years in the past he had to be strong and powerful and Draco knew having powerful friends was important.

The best part was Tom doesn’t like Potter either. It’s great. Draco can’t wait to talk to him tomorrow.

* * *

Draco hesitates quill hovering over the parchment, it’s his standard letter home and he should be writing down about how his memory has been weird lately and how he woke up on the second floor, but something whispers, tells him not too.

He shakes his head and gets up. Draco can write a letter later he has class to attend too.

* * *

“Enemies of the heir beware! You’ll be next mudblood.” Draco shouts out gleefully.

The last time the Chamber of Secrets was opened a mudblood died and Draco can’t wait for it to happen again. He ignores the fact that once again he woke up not remembering anything from the night before, with red stains on his hands.

* * *

Harry is almost one hundred percent certain Malfoy is the heir of Slytherin.

The other boy hasn’t been paying much attention to him and his friends compared to last year and aside from the rude comment every now and then it’s like Malfoy’s forgotten he exists.

Still only a Slytherin would know a spell to summon a snake, and well everyone knows how Malfoy feels about muggleborns he more or less confirmed it with his enemies beware proclamation.

“So, what do you think about this Slytherin’s heir.” Ron disguised as Goyle asks.

“I just wish I knew who it was.” Malfoy sighs, “So I could thank him.”

“So, you don’t know who it is.” Harry as scrabble says.

Malfoy rolls his eyes, “What did I just say Crabbe?”

They watch as Malfoy pulls out a black book and begins writing in it, his eyes seem to glaze over, and he stands up abruptly making his way out the common room.

Harry and Ron go to follow him but the Polyjuice Potion wears off before they can.

* * *

Draco Malfoy is freaking out; he can’t stop writing in the diary. He’s almost sure he’s responsible for the attacks, he doesn’t want mudbloods to die, or at least he thinks he doesn’t.

All he knows is that there’s something wrong with the diary, he threw it in the fireplace, but nothing happened, and he felt even more compelled to write. He thought Tom was supposed to be his friend.

His father is here with the Minister and Draco really doesn’t want to go jail, to Azkaban, and he’s trying his dammed hardest to not freak out and the diary is making him do things he doesn’t want to do.

* * *

Any other child would’ve likely passed out by now, but Draco has grown up exposed to dark magic which means he gets the added bonus of watching Tom Riddle come to life as his drains away.

“I don’t understand, I thought you were my friend. You made me do things.” _Dark horrible things._

“I don’t have any friends. It was nothing you didn’t want.”

“You were only supposed to go after mudbloods. I’m a pureblood.

Tom Riddle shrugs, “Sacrifices have to be made. I’ll be sure to award your family. Your grandfather was a great help.”

Draco blinks, feeling himself get weaker, and he gets it, “Voldemort.”

Voldemort is a mudblood or a halfblood, there is no pureblood family named Riddle. Voldemort who is a halfblood or a mudblood who preaches of blood supremacy, who is murdering a pureblood. 

He wants to cry, he’s not ready to die, not ready to process having his world view shattered. Draco only manages to give him the two-finger salute before he slumps down everything going black.

* * *

He wakes up to Potter hovering over him and doesn’t say anything. He has nothing to say. Not anymore. Not when Weasley asks if he’s okay. Not when the phoenix flies them out, he ignores everyone.

Doesn’t say a word, not even when his mother comes in hugging him and presses kisses to his face. The Dark Lord, Voldemort, Tom, reached into his head drew out his deepest desires, promised to be his friend, Draco doesn’t feel like talking to anyone, anymore.

* * *

Narcissa doesn’t count that as a strike really, she didn’t. It wasn’t like Lucius had known what the diary did. No, it’s when Lucius has the nerve, the audacity, to lecture Draco as if it was his fault, Lucius planned to let lose some monstrosity in the same school his child attended.

When he just as much told Draco that his life, and the life of other pureblooded children were nothing compared to his Lord.

What kind of idiot would risk not just own child but the lives of other children in their group? This was no longer a marriage, Narcissa Malfoy, wanted to be a part of.

No, it wasn’t until he slapped Draco across the face (something he didn’t seem all that surprised at which meant this had been going on behind her back for months, no maybe even years) for saying the Dark Lord was a mudbood that Narcissa truly counted it as a strike.

If she was being completely honest, she would’ve forgiven it all, followed along like a good pureblood wife, but Draco, her darling Draco, hadn’t said a word since he’d been rescued, and she didn’t want to think of the implications.

* * *

The next day she sent out some letters, made some potions, and soon found herself standing outside her cousin’s cell.

“Cousin Sirius.”

He made no move to indicate he heard her, but she knew he could just the same.

“Cousin Sirius, I will get you out of this cell, and in return as Head of the Black Household, you will reinstate my son and I back into the Black family. It seems Lucius and myself have finally grown apart.”

In the dark dusty cell, though Narcissa couldn’t see one Sirius Black let out a slow smile.

**Author's Note:**

> Next year will go into more detail, and how things have changed.


End file.
